I was the only beginner. Sally and her brother Mike had each skiied twice before, and Winston, whom I had a monster crush on, had been skiing once. Naturally, this meant that they knew everything about skiing.
The neighbor who had loaned me his daughter's boots and skis had told me that the first thing I should do is take a lesson. When I repeated this advice to my friends, they scoffed.
"I'll teach you," said Winston. "We'll start on something easy. Just follow me."
If I'd been at nearly any other resort, I'd have realized this was a bad idea as soon as I tried to negotiate the lift. But Blue Knob is set up so that the lodge is on top -- skiers head down the slopes, and then take the lifts back up. I trustingly followed Winston over the edge of the bunny slope. Big mistake.
He was right -- skiing was easy. Turning was another matter. Winston headed left at the bottom of the slope, toward the Poma lift. Unable to control my skis, I kept going straight. The slope flattened out into a long run-out, which slowed me down, but the "lesson" hadn't included how to stop. Just before I would have hit a large tree, I stopped the only way I knew how -- I fell down.
I hiked awkwardly across the flats to the lift, where my friends were waiting patiently. The look on Winston's face made it clear he was not impressed. Luckily for me, he took the lift ahead of me and missed seeing me embarrass myself further.
While we waited in line, he had explained how to use the Poma lift, but if you've ever ridden one you know that they are diabolically intended for maximum embarrassment of beginners. Put the platter between your legs, lean back but don't sit down, and keep your skis in the tracks. The problem was that I hadn't mastered skiing downhill yet. Skiing uphill, pulled by the lift, was just as difficult. After two falls (falling releases the platter, which means that you have to ski back down to the lift line again) I finally made it up to the lodge. As soon as I got there, I informed my friends that I was taking a lesson, and I would meet them afterward.
It has been many years and many ski days since then. I'm not an expert now by any means, but I can usually make it from the top to the bottom, and I haven't fallen off a lift in years. But two lessons from that day still stay with me.
First: instruction by a professional is much more effective than instruction by a boyfriend. And second: never follow a guy over the edge of a cliff.